Night Crawlers
by EnfysLords
Summary: Martin and Louisa find themselves stranded on Bodmin Moor. Takes place in series 3 after Bert's opening night but before "The Holly Bears a Prickle" concert date. Be warned this is a dark story containing violence.
1. Chapter 1

"And again?" The words were whipped away by the wind as Martin called out to Louisa.

There was a brief pause before he heard the starter motor struggle to turn. He watched the engine, the tubes, the cords, the pipes, looking for anything amiss but saw nothing. Cars were not his specialty.

He let the hood of his silver Lexus fall heavily back into place and stared at Louisa through the windshield. Her lovely features were tight in worry as she met his eyes. Being stranded on Bodmin Moor was never a good thing. At least dinner had been successful, driving all the way to Truro had been a wise choice. After the disaster at Bert's opening night it paid to be away from prying eyes and gossiping lips. Louisa was happy, he thought- maybe. He had never been very good at gauging things like that. They had yet to argue about anything though, so that was a good sign. Maybe.

Shaking his head, he climbed back into the car. "I think it's the fuel pump but can't be certain. Any signal?"

Louisa held out her phone towards the window. "No, this whole area is a black spot."

They sat in silence, staring at the orange hues of the sunset. The solitude of the moor was almost comforting to Martin. He liked the quiet, the absence of people. Well, with the exception of one. The one sitting beside him. Martin kept his eyes forward not trusting himself to gaze at the beautiful woman in the passenger seat, the woman of his dreams. She looked stunning tonight in a form fitting dress; beautiful, graceful, perfect. His eyes pulled to his left of their own accord. Just a glance-The sound of a door opening broke the silence and he watched as Louisa climbed out of the car.

"Better get walking then." She gave him a smile that made his heart bounce through his veins. "There should be a few farms around here. Maybe a pub."

"Louisa?" She stopped, bending down to gaze at him in the car. He swallowed. "Perhaps it would be best if we just stayed here?" The words clashed with his logical mind. Of course they should start walking. But he longed to be alone with her just a little longer, away from the ridiculous world of Port Wenn.

"What, all night?"

That sounded perfect. "No. People are bound to drive by sooner or later."

"Well you can wait here while I go and find help. It'll be a team effort." She closed the door.

Martin scrambled out from behind the wheel, his suit coat flapping in the stiff, cool breeze. He locked the doors, the headlights blinking in response, before trotting to catch up to Louisa. Separating was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'll just- I'll come with you then."

They walked side by side, Martin consciously shortening his stride to match that of Louisa's. She had brushed his hand twice at dinner, her fingers soft and small as they grazed his knuckles. His thoughts routinely went to their unfortunate ride in the taxi cab, embarrassment automatically burning at the nape of his neck every time he remembered his words, his stupid words. But the memory of kissing her, the elation of feeling her pull him to her, far outweighed any other miserable memory.

He slid his eyes to rest on her profile, trying to be discreet. The soft, evening light bounced off of her elf like features and the wind swept her hair back in gentle wisps. She looked powerful, her eyes scanning the horizon, alert, alive. The heat of desire rolled through him, making his heart thump against his sternum. He tried to quell the feeling, tried to shove it away. It was ridiculous to be feeling like this when his attention was needed elsewhere, such as focusing on finding shelter and help before nightfall. But it was useless. More than anything in the world, more than he wanted to be a surgeon again, to be out of Cornwall, to find help even, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, just hold her hand even. His eyes fell further down, over her neck and collar bones, into forbidden territory.

Louisa's eyes sharply turned to look at him, the lids ever so slightly narrowing. Martin jerked his chin away, turning his head to look at the sea, away from her. Caught.

"You're unusually quiet tonight."

"No I'm not." Panic tightened in his chest. He thought he had done very well conversation wise. He knew women liked someone who genuinely listened to them so that's what he did. He listened to every detail, every word, and tucked it away in his memory for safe keeping.

Louisa smiled at him and he relaxed. She wasn't cross. "Well, you're always pretty quiet I suppose."

Martin felt uncomfortable. He hated talking, especially about himself, so he did exactly what he knew he was proficient at and stayed silent.

"But, I mean, that's fine. In fact, I- I quite like that about you."

Martin's even stride stuttered, her soft words so foreign to him. "You do?"

Louisa looked away, a shoulder shrugging. "Yes."

Pride swelled through his chest and shoulders and he glanced down at Louisa's hand by her side. All he had to do was reach out and take it. He swung his hand closer to hers- But what if she got angry? Or brushed him off? Maybe she didn't enjoy holding hands? Or maybe she didn't like _his_ hands? His meaty, shovel-like hands.

He flexed his fingers self consciously, tightening the muscles throughout his arm. It wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth the rejection he knew would come. He knew he was a coward, always had been, always would be. Little Marty the big eared, bed wetting, clumsy coward. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew that people didn't change. He was no exception.

They walked in silence, the endless hills turning into more endless hills. A few stray sheep grazed in the distance, clumped together, preparing for nightfall and nighthawks swooped through the air, snatching bugs from the sky. The temperature was dropping quickly though, the air thickening with moisture. They needed to find a house or pub quickly before the rain came. His brain automatically began compiling multiple scenarios if the temperature dropped too low. The probability of hypothermia increased exponentially- Something warm and soft brushed his palm and he looked down, startled, to see Louisa's narrow fingers intertwining with his. She squeezed his hand and he automatically returned the pressure, curling his fingers up around her knuckles.

A thrilling warmth flooded his body and soul as they walked hand in hand down the road, the sky now a dusky blue. Her hand felt so delicate and soft, her forearm brushing against his. Automatically, they stepped closer to each other until he could feel the warmth of her skin. He tried to calm his trembling nerves, she would notice, but his heart thrummed through his veins even faster when her thumb, ever so slightly, stroked over his finger. It was a tiny gesture, of common affection, but it triggered something deep within him. Maybe he wasn't alone anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Night had fallen and Martin could feel shivers passing through Louisa's body. They were still walking but a faint light had finally appeared in the distance; a farm house. It was incredibly dark, the moon a faint blotch of light under a thick layer of cloud cover. Reluctantly, he released Louisa's hand and stripped off his jacket.

"Martin, really, I'm fine." She protested. He had offered her his jacket twice before, her thin shawl no match for the temperature, but her shivers were increasing.

"Low temperatures often have a detrimental effect -"

"Alright! I'll take it." She let him help her into the oversized garment but he couldn't help but notice that her earlier good humor seemed to be slipping.

"My core temperature is still high, I'll be fine. It's only a little further." Martin could already feel the cold air seeping through his shirt. He waited for Louisa to take his hand again but instead she folded her arms, her hands buried in the copious amounts of extra fabric. Tamping down a wave of disappointment, he curled his hand into a fist, trying to keep his fingers warm.

The light bobbed closer and closer until they reached what appeared to be a small barn. Light emanated from the windows, indicating a human presence. Two cars were parked in front. Martin immediately strode towards the entrance.

"Martin, wait." Louisa's hand gripped his arm. "Maybe we should keep going."

Martin felt his brow furrow in confusion. The damp chill had settled against his skin and his tie was irritatingly flapping in the breeze. "What are you talking about?"

Louisa warily stepped back. "I don't know, this just doesn't feel right."

Martin opened his mouth, a string of irrefutable reasons as to why they should stay preparing to be released but Louisa spoke first.

"What's that?"

He followed her gaze to one of the parked cars. A stack of packages sat on the ground, either being unloaded or loaded. There was nothing that marked them as being out of the ordinary. "What does it matter?"

Louisa ignored him and walked cautiously towards the package.

Martin waited, irritation beginning to crawl up his spine. "Louisa?"

She didn't lift her head, her words muffled, whispered. "Come here."

Martin walked quickly, trying to quell his irritation. "What?" The package came into view. "It's just a box with someone else's belongings in it. Can we please go inside now?"

Louisa's eyes met his and he saw her anxiety. Sighing loudly, he crouched down, his shoulder brushing hers. He looked closely; the box was filled with plastic, clear bags containing a white powder- his eyes widened as he carefully picked one up. "Crack cocaine. And a lot of it." The realization of what must be happening in the barn hit him and he dropped the bag. "We need to go. Now." He grabbed Louisa by the sleeve but she didn't need any encouraging.

A shaft of light shot into the darkness, momentarily blinding them, as the barn door was thrown open. Martin froze, automatically pulling Louisa behind him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing here?" The silhouette yelled. From the timbre of his voice, Martin could tell he was a young man, probably late twenties.

"We were just leaving-"

"Ollie!"

Another man appeared and both the figures moved towards them. Martin could hear other voices still in the barn.

"Martin, we need to go." Louisa's voice was right behind him, her fingers gripping the fabric covering his lower back.

The men moved in close on them, aggressive, and Martin put his hands out, palm up. "All we need is the use of a telephone, then we'll be on our way." They were sharp faced men with athletic builds.

"Our car broke down several miles back." Louisa's voice caught the attention of the younger man and he side stepped Martin.

"Hello there." His eyes scanned her body.

The older man, Ollie presumably, snickered. "Right, like we haven't heard that one before." He spoke with a harsh accent, the syllables garbled . "Get 'em in there." He swooped down and picked up the box of cocaine before going back into the barn.

Martin swallowed, "Actually, I think we'll just be going-"

"Get in the barn." A metallic click followed the words and Martin turned to see a pistol being leveled. But it wasn't pointed at him. It was aimed at Louisa.

Martin's stomach dropped. He felt like he was being split in two: half of him was filled with a primal rage, ready to rip this man's throat out while the other was heavy with complete and utter helplessness. He stood still, the latter taking control.

"Come on. In you go."

He watched as Louisa began walking, her terrified eyes meeting his.

"Wait. Give me your phones."

They did as he asked and watched as he threw the devices far into the darkness of the night.

"You. Hands on your head. And keep them there." The man waved the pistol at him and Martin began walking, slowly raising his arms until his hands were resting on his skull. The man was much smaller than him, most people were, but he had never been a fighter. 'Shoulders of a bull and hands of a boxer' his uncle Phil would tell him. But his stature didn't mean a thing without courage. And now Louisa would see him for the coward he really was.

The barn was cold, the ceilings were low and claustrophobic. Martin followed Louisa into the harsh, artificial light. Along with Ollie, two more men sat at a table, watching them. They lewdly gazed at Louisa and Martin was grateful that she was wearing his jacket. They were all young men, Ollie looking the oldest, mid thirties. He had a thin, red beard that made his face look wild.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Ollie asked, irritated.

Louisa stepped closer to Martin. "Our car-"

"Yeah, yeah, you told me about the car. What were you doing?"

"We had dinner, in Truro."

Ollie's attention was focused on Martin. He eyed him up and down then stepped in close. Martin automatically tensed, his entire midriff and ribs were completely exposed with his arms above his head.

Ollie pinched Martin's tie, turning it over to look at the label. "You look like a copper, you know that?"

The image of PC Penhale flashed through his mind. "No I do not, you imbecile."

"Martin!" Louisa hissed.

Ollie turned his focus to Louisa, his eyes resting on the suit jacket. "Let's just take this off, shall we? I know it's a bit chilly, but we can't be too careful. For all I know you could be hiding an Uzi under there."

Martin dropped his hands and stepped in front of him. "You stay away from her!"

The two men at the table stood, ready for action. But before Martin could say anymore, he felt a hand grab his hair and yank backwards. Louisa shrieked his name as he stumbled, knocked off balance. The tip of cold steel pressed into the base of his skull. He held perfectly still.

"I said keep your hands on your head." It was the youngest man, the one with the gun.

Ollie rubbed a hand over his face, annoyed. "Get some cable ties for him, please."

With the pistol still firmly planted at the back of his neck, Martin could only watch as the two men who had been at the table strapped his wrists together with industrial cable ties. The plastic bit into his skin as they yanked his arms upwards and fastened his wrists to an overhead beam. He was completely immobilized and could already feel the strain on his shoulders from the unnatural angle. His eyes flew to Louisa's and in that moment he wanted to tell her everything, tell her that he was madly in love with her and that he needed her in his life more than anything, that he couldn't live without her. But instead all he could muster was: "I'm sorry."

Ollie snorted. "What are you saying sorry for? We aren't going to hurt her. You, maybe, but a little lady? We aren't barbarians." He turned his attention back to Louisa. "Now, please take off the coat."

Louisa slowly shed the jacket, her eyes downcast, her form fitting dress revealed in its fullness. Martin bristled as Ollie let out a low whistle.

"So, you're telling me that you" he gestured to her dress "went out to dinner with this- " he pointed at Martin. "this big tree over here?" He leaned in. "You could do so much better, darling."

Martin tried to ignore the insults, they were only words, but a part of him knew they were true. More true than he ever wanted to admit.

"He's more of a man than you lot will ever be." Louisa spat.

"Is he?" Ollie handed Martin's jacket to one of the men. "We can probably pawn that for a couple hundred quid."

"How much do you want?" Martin realized he may have a chance. Money was the life blood of men like these.

Ollie looked perplexed. "I'm sorry?"

"Money. How much?"

Ollie circled him, a hand deftly reaching into Martin's back pocket and producing his wallet. He opened the wallet and pulled a card out. Drivers license. "Martin Christopher Ellingham. My, from Kensington no less." He wiggled his eyebrows at Louisa. "So that's why, because of these babies." He flicked out Martin's credit cards. "Unfortunately, I only take cash, not plastic." Ollie dropped the wallet, the cards clattering. "So what's a big city man like you doing in Cornwall?"

Martin kept his voice level, calm. "I'm a GP."

"A doctor?" His tone shifted.

"That's right."

Ollie's manner had changed, the facade of control slipping. He shared glances with the other men. "Go get him."

The men at the table snapped to their feet and ran out the door. Martin watched them, a feeling of dread settling heavily in his stomach at what they might bring back.

Ollie stepped close to him and rolled his sleeve up revealing the pale, freckled flesh of his arm. "What's that?" His voice was low.

Martin peered down at the man's arm where a splotch of discoloration marred the fair skin. It was most likely something benign but Martin's irritation with the situation was growing rapidly. "Judging from your skin tone and red hair, it's cancer. You're dying."

The air was suddenly forced from Martin's lungs as a fist snapped out and smashed into his exposed ribs. The pain was electric and his entire body tensed in agony. But through the pain his trained mind knew immediately that nothing was broken. Cracked maybe, but not broken. Struggling to breathe, Martin let his chin fall to his chest as he tried to regain his composure.

Ollie reached out and forcefully grabbed Martin by the neck. "Watch the attitude."

"Stop it!" Louisa pushed Ollie's arms away from Martin, physically creating a barrier between them. "What is wrong with you? Just let us be on our way."

Martin's side throbbed in pain confirming damaged ribs. But he hid it, something he had become a master at throughout his life.

Ollie rubbed his knuckles and slid his eyes over Louisa's form. "I would. I want to actually. But you see, you've really complicated my life" he smiled and ran his thumb over Louisa's cheek "and I just can't let you go." He reached into his pocket and retrieved several cable ties. "Take a seat, Miss-?

"L-Louisa."

"Miss Louisa. Go on, sit down. You'll be much more comfortable. Well, more comfortable than Mr. Doctor over here."

Louisa shook her head. "I'd rather not."

Her voice trembled and Martin felt a wave a frustration and shame. This was all his fault. He shouldn't have taken her to dinner in the first place. None of this would have happened. His side pulsated in pain as he heard the sound of more cable ties zipping into place. He wasn't a hero, never had been, never would be.

Lifting his eyes, he saw Ollie fasten one of Louisa's wrists to a vertical beam on the wall. Louisa lifted her free hand and swiped at her moist eyes.

"There, see? That isn't so bad. I just can't have you running off, sweetheart." He ran his fingers along her jaw but Louisa jerked her head away. Ollie raised an eyebrow. "You don't want me strapping your other hand down, do you?"

Martin felt panic well up within him at where the situation was heading. He pulled at the ties above his head but he knew they wouldn't break. A crash came from the door, breaking the tension, as the two men returned. Ollie moved away from Louisa, distracted. The men were carrying someone. It was a young boy, no older than sixteen, and his face was pale and covered in sweat. Martin gazed at the young face, it held an innocence that was lacking in the others. It was also creased in pain.

"Can you help him?" Ollie asked.

Martin's mind began forming multiple plans of procedure for diagnosis. "What's happened?"

"He got in a fight couple days ago. Knife wound."

"Where?"

"Leg."

"I need to examine him."

Ollie hesitated before flipping out the blade of a pocket knife. He cut the ties. Instant relief came over Martin as the pressure was taken off his shoulders and wrists. Gingerly he lowered his arms but bolt of pain shot through his torso. He gasped, a hand going to his side. The young man with the pistol stepped close to him and pressed the barrel above his kidney.

"If you try anything your bird gets a kneecap shot out." He whispered.

Martin nodded then walked slowly, warily, every movement sending streaks of pain through his torso. He clenched his jaw against the onslaught and crouched down next to the boy's inert form. The right leg of his trousers was damp and dark with blood, the fabric above the knee torn. Martin pressed his fingers to the boy's neck, finding his carotid. The pulse was thready and inconsistent, his skin hot and clammy. He was also shivering. "How long has he been like this?"

The men shrugged their shoulders but Ollie tapped his fingers against his folded arms, irritated. "Look, I just don't want his blood on my hands. Get him fixed up."

Martin pulled back the tattered strips of clothing around the wound and wasn't surprised to see that the surrounding flesh was an angry red color. The entry point itself wasn't deep, the bleeding nonexistent, but heat radiated in waves from it. "I suspect septicemia. He needs a hospital immediately."

"Well that isn't possible right now. Do what you can, clean it up or something."

Martin stood, the pain in his side becoming almost unbearable. He tried to control it, trick his mind into not feeling it, but it was to no avail. He could feel his thoughts becoming duller as the seconds passed, his tolerance for the entire situation shrinking rapidly. "He needs antibiotics within the next few hours or he will die."

The sinews in Ollie's jaw flexed in irritation as he glared at Martin. "So there isn't anything you can do."

"He has blood poisoning. Maybe if you had gotten proper help in the first place he wouldn't be like this." Martin didn't bother to tamp down his rising ire. "Or even better, maybe you should look into a change of career-"

Martin saw Ollie step towards him, his movements sleek and trained, and knew what was coming. But like most things in life, he reacted too late. Ollie's fist connected with his zygomatic. He felt his knees buckle as muted colors swirled behind his injured eye. He heard Louisa cry out to him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the gathering moisture. Miraculously he was still on his feet, albeit a bit wobbly. His jaw felt loose, his cheek and eye numb.

"You really think you're better than us, don't you?" Ollie moved close to him and Martin flinched, his arms coming up to protect his face, waiting for another blow. But instead, Ollie reached out and took his wrists, slipping another cable tie over them. The plastic zipped into place, biting skin. Martin stumbled back as Ollie shoved his chest and wrenched his arms above his head, fastening his wrists to the low hanging beam again. The blood pulsed hotly under the skin where Ollie had hit him and he could feel the tissue beginning to swell. He sought out Louisa, instinctively seeking her presence. She stood still, her shoulders huddled against the cold. Her cheeks were wet with silent tears as she met his gaze, but her jaw was stubbornly set. Dipping her chin ever so slightly, she nodded at him, assuring him that she was fine. Martin squeezed his eyes shut, his whole face feeling hot, and leaned his head heavily against his arm.

A mobile phone shattered the strained silence and Ollie whipped the device out of his coat pocket. It wasn't a regular mobile, larger, blockier. He answered before the second ring. "Where the hell are you? We've been here for hours." Only the gentle patter of rain was heard as Ollie listened to the caller for a moment, his fingers ticking. "Well get a move on, we have a bit of a problem." He pointedly looked at Martin and Louisa. "No, worse. Witnesses."


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for the (slightly) long wait. Here's chapter 3. Again, this is violent, dark, and a tad ridiculous. My medical knowledge is limited so if anything is wrong, well, it's just a story. Thank you for reading!**

Martin flexed his cold, stiff fingers, trying to regain some blood flow. The rain had stopped, leaving only the wind as it slid heavily around the ancient barn. The young boy on the ground had stopped shivering but his skin was slick with sweat. Martin knew he was dying. His innocent, pale face was slack as shallow breaths whispered rapidly from his open mouth. The men's gazes studiously avoided looking at the boy, choosing instead to stare at the bright screens of their mobile phones. But not Ollie, his eyes were instead resting just behind Martin, on Louisa.

Martin had tried to quell the intense anger that the looks had sparked within him. But there was something more, something more primal and dangerous that roiled within him. Martin had always considered himself a very proper, civilized individual. One who took pride in discipline and control. But now, as he watched Ollie's dark eyes slither over Louisa's body he found himself consumed with the desire to... to do something, anything, to protect her. His muddled mind couldn't control the feelings as they rampaged through him.

"Ollie?" A raspy voice broke the thick silence. It was the boy.

Ollie tore his gaze from Louisa and stared at the boy. "What do you want?"

"Ollie, please, take me to hospital." The boy's voice was so faint that Martin almost didn't hear him. Ollie let out a sigh and stood, stretching his arms above his head. He didn't respond.

Martin looked from Ollie to the boy, the anger he had been feeling threatening to come to a head. "Oh for God's sake! He is dying. Take him to the hospital you stupid man! If you won't do it, then I will."

Ollie tilted his chin towards Martin, the sinews in his jaw flexing. Martin tensed and shifted his weight, preparing to be hit again but Ollie's attention was once again focused just to the right of Martin's shoulder, on Louisa.

Ollie walked towards Louisa, his manner relaxed. Martin twisted his torso to follow him, his heart rate rising rapidly. The movement caused bolts of pain to jolt through him but his mind shut them out as he watched in horror as Ollie swiftly reached down, grabbed Louisa's jaw and kissed her.

Martin felt his stomach twist into a tight ball of sick hatred at the sight. Louisa desperately tried to pull back but Ollie just kissed her harder, his free hand pinning her back.

"Stop!" The sound was ripped from Martin's throat.

Ollie stepped away from Louisa, roughly releasing her jaw. He smiled at Martin. "Or what? You'll hurt me? Tell the coppers I hurt your girlfriend?"

Martin heard the words but they didn't register, all he could focus on was Louisa. She was looking down, her free hand pressed against her face. Her shoulders shuddered as she gulped in air, trying to calm herself. Her gaze was hard as she stared at Ollie. The same primal anger he had been feeling resurfaced with a vengeance.

"Hey!" Ollie's voice was close to him and Martin realized that he hadn't heard any of what the man had been saying.

Martin stared at the sharp face, the dark eyes, the thin, pale lips. "You bastard."

Ollie's face contorted into a strange grin and he rested his hands on his hips.

"Ollie, stop." The young man, the one who still firmly held a pistol, spoke up.

But Ollie paid no heed, instead he strode back to Louisa and forcibly grabbed her face, this time his body pressed tight against hers.

Something snapped within Martin as instinct took over. It ignited in his chest traveled up into his shoulders, through his arms and into his hands. _Shoulders of a bull, hands of a boxer. _ He felt the plastic draw blood from his wrists as he pulled as hard as he could, every muscle straining. He watched Ollie press his lips against Louisa's, his free hand holding her head in place. A trickle of liquid travel down Martin's sleeve and he knew it was blood, but he felt no pain. All he could feel was a rage he had never known.

The cable ties snapped. Martin took two swift steps, his body moving of it's own accord, and grabbed Ollie by the neck. He yanked the smaller man backwards. "I said stay away from her!"

Ollie looked up at Martin from where he was on the ground, his face contorting with anger. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Martin watched as Ollie leapt to his feet and began running at him. But then something happened. There was a noise. a popping sound but painfully loud and Martin knew something was wrong as he fell to the ground.

He lay there for a moment, his ears ringing and the sounds muffled. Why had he fallen down? Ollie was staring at him in shock, face slack, eyes wide. Martin realized with panic that he couldn't breathe. His entire chest felt as if it had been pelted with a boulder and he desperately tried to drag in an iota of oxygen. That's when the pain hit. His entire right side was engulfed in flame like agony, all of it emanating from a single pinpoint in his shoulder. He reached over with his left and grabbed at his shirt material, trying to make it stop. His hand came away red and warm with blood.

"I never said shoot him, you idiot!" Ollie's voice was muffled above him, as if they were underwater. He was talking to the youngest member of his team. "Now you've let all of Bodmin know where we are."

Martin's diaphragm finally decided to function and air inflated his lungs at an alarming rate. White, burning tears clouded his eyes at the pain. Every muscle in his body threatened to snap with tension.

"He was attacking you! We're fine. Farmers all have guns-" The young man said.

Ollie shook his head. "Get everything loaded. You've compromised everything."

"What about them?"

"Let's just go before we're charged for dealing and murder." The words were laced with panic.

"It's your fault, Ollie, you shouldn't of touched her!"

Martin felt the warm stickiness spread under his back. He tried to focus on a plan of procedure for a gunshot wound to the right shoulder but his mind was foggy, confused. Where was Louisa? He turned his head and saw her. Tears were running down her cheeks and her hand was clamped over her mouth in horror. He had to get to her, comfort her, help her.

There was a flurry of activity all around him as the men packed their belongings.

"Leave the boy." Ollie's voice came from the door. The men scurried like panicked rodents. Then everything was still. Martin could vaguely hear the sounds of cars outside but the noise was swept away in the wind.

"Martin?" Louisa's voice trembled.

Martin rocked to his side, trying to lift his mass into a semi upwards position. "Louisa." He clamped his right elbow to his side, trying to keep his shoulder as still as possible as he managed to bring his feet under him and stand. The metallic smell of blood slammed into his senses and he almost doubled over at the tumult in his gut. Saliva flooded his mouth as the gag reflex prepared to launch his dinner. After a moment he managed to quell the feeling. "Louisa." Her name tumbled form his lips. He stepped forward, his gait surprisingly strong, and reached out to touch her face, her beautiful face. Her cold hand rose to clasp his close to her. "I'm so sorry." He murmured.

"Martin, focus." Her voice was strong. "You have to help me get out of this and then we will get to a hospital."

Martin nodded, he knew that, but his mind wasn't responding the way he wanted. _Break the cable tie. _That was his next course of action. He dropped his eyes to the ground searching for any sort of tool. The young boy's form came into focus, his eyes still closed, face pale, but something wasn't right. Martin stumbled towards him and dropped his weight to one knee. His fingers went automatically to the boy's neck. The air left his lungs: nothing. He stared at the young face, so strangely still. He had seen his share of dead bodies but he couldn't stop the heavy sadness that settled in his chest. A flash of anger lit his thoughts. He could have saved him. Could of- Martin shook his head, trying to clear the haze that had settled into his consciousness. He could feel the warm stickiness of blood seeping down his torso. He licked his dry lips and closed his eyes as his entire body pulsed with pain. "Time?" The words left his mouth automatically.

Soft hands were suddenly on his face. He opened his eyes to see Louisa staring intently at him. Her hands left his face and gingerly skirted the dark, glistening entry wound on his chest. Immediately his gaze was drawn to the angry red marks marring her pale wrists. "You're hurt."

"No I'm not. Come on, we have to get help." Her words were soft and close. She looked at the body. "There was nothing you could do."

He felt her hands slip under his arm and pull upwards. But he shook his head firmly and fell forward, his hands pressing heavily down on the boy's chest. His movements were sloppy but he counted silently compression after compression. The pain was constant now, seemingly everywhere, but he kept moving, watching the dead face.

"Martin." Louisa's voice trembled. "There's nothing you can do. He's gone."

Her hands once again pulled him up, stopping him. Martin leaned back, his

breathing shallow from the exertion. He stared at the unmoving ribcage, his own bloody hand prints staining the thin shirt. He allowed Louisa to pull him to his feet.

"Come on." Her hand gripped his forearm and led him slowly towards the door.


	4. Chapter 4

I do apologize for the immensely slow rate of updates. Again, this is kind of dark and violent (which is funny because one of my favorite aspects of _Doc Martin _is the atypical light, fun, yet dramatic, tone). I wrote this chapter rather quickly so if there are mistakes, I'm sorry. I should be finishing this by the end of the month, so don't give up hope on me just yet.

Thanks for reading!

Louisa was shivering. The wind whipped around her and Martin as they walked through the thick blackness. Their pace had been strong but Martin was beginning to slow. She took his good arm and slung it over her shoulders. He leaned against her, his mass heavy, warm, and damp with blood and sweat. She gripped his hand tightly and together they trudged on.

She noticed that Martin's breathing was growing heavier, more labored, with each step. He stumbled and she let out a yelp as his weight made her knees buckle. She grit her teeth and shoved up against him, trying to keep him upright. But it was no use, he slid to the ground until he was on his knees. She felt helpless as she rested her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. It was all she could do.

She tightly closed her eyes and swiped a hand through her tangled hair, wincing as her fingers caught. Breathing deeply she opened her eyes and stared down at Martin. She could barely make out the planes of his face in the darkness. His eyes were closed and his chin bobbed forward in exhaustion. She knew he was loosing blood. Anger filled her as she thought how, if their positions were reversed, he would know precisely what to do. He would save them both- and could have saved the boy- she pushed away the sharp images of the still, young body. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. She turned her attention back to Martin.

He swallowed. "Louisa." His voice was raspy. "I can't-"

"You're going to be fine. We can rest-"

But he shook his head at her words. "Go and get help. I've lost a large amount of blood and my average heart rate is dangerously high." His words were punctuated with deep breaths.

Louisa stared down at him, knowing he was right. She felt her eyes burn and her throat tighten at the thought of leaving him but it was the only way she could save him. Automatically, she reached out and brushed her grimy hand over his short hair. He sluggishly looked up at the contact. His eyes glinted wetly in the dark as he gazed up at her. Louisa hesitated only a moment before she dropped down to her knees, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

She felt him draw back slightly, surprised, before he wrapped his good arm around her back and pulled her closer. The wind, the cold, all of it disappeared as Louisa felt the closeness of his body, the softness of his lips. She clenched the expensive fabric of his shirt, right above his shoulder blade, and pulled away. She ran her hands gently over his back before tenderly brushing her fingers over his jaw. She gazed at his face, unusually close, and kissed him once more, her lips lingering.

As she pulled away, Martin slumped lower, resting his weight on one hand, trying to keep upright. Louisa shuffled closer to him, her grip on him tightening. He steadied and slowly let his head drop to her shoulder. She could feel his warm, shallow breaths on the skin of her neck as she clutched him to her. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed her cheek to the side of his head thinking of something to say, something to comfort him. The corner of her lip quirked at the ridiculous thought of Martin speaking comforting words to someone in need. She licked her dry lips. "Martin?"

He stirred, lifting his head. Their faces were only inches apart and Louisa couldn't help but react to their closeness. She gripped his face with both of her hands and pressed her forehead against his. She didn't want to leave him. Lifting her gaze, she stared at the barren, dark slopes of the moor, the wind undulating through the grass.

Something caught her eye. Light. She squinted; staring at it, hope bubbling up through her. It was blue and flashing. Her eyes widened and her heart leapt in her chest as she realized it was a police car speeding towards them. The lights became brighter, more frantic as they neared.

"Martin, look!" Louisa shouted to be heard over the wind.

Martin's head lifted as he focused on the approaching vehicle and she saw a ghost of a smile lift his lips. The car slowed as the headlights caught their figures. Louisa waved an arm out; making sure the driver could see them. The siren suddenly sounded, loud and shrill, as the car screeched to a halt. The driver's door flew open and a figure leapt out, holding something outstretched.

"Don't move! I've got pepper spray and a taser both of which are very unpleasant I've been told."

Louisa felt her shoulders slump in relief at the unmistakable voice of P.C. Penhale. "Joe, it's us!"

Joe stood up straight and took a step forward. "Louisa?" His eyes widened at the sight of Martin. "Doc? Are you alright?"

Louisa grabbed his arm. "We have to get him to hospital-"

Joe stiffened, his eyes glancing at his car. "I'm kind of on a mission right now. Report of gun fire, a group of very questionable looking youths-"

"He's been shot!" Her throat burned at the volume of her words. Joe looked at Martin, startled.

"Right. Yes. Let's go." Joe reached down and grabbed Martin under the arm..

"Be careful!" She couldn't help the condescending tone.

Joe obediently slowed his movements as, together, they shuffled Martin towards the car.

Martin grimaced in pain as he moved and in the headlights his skin glistened with sweat. Together, she and Joe managed to get Martin into the backseat of the Land Rover. Joe climbed behind the wheel and Louisa trotted around to the other side of the car and jumped into the back seat.

She scooted close to Martin as Joe slammed the transmission into gear. The heater was on high and Louisa immediately felt the blood coming back into her fingers and toes. She examined Martin's face, his brow was furrowed and his jaw tight. She reached out to touch him, her fingers brushing his cheek. His skin was cold and damp. She swallowed. "Things will be okay, Martin." His eyes cracked open, the dark pupils moving to rest on her. His good arm moved and he touched the side of her face, fingers cold. She reached up and held his hand to her, ignoring the crumbling pieces of dried blood falling from his skin.

"What happened then?" Joe asked.

Louisa glanced up, noticing Joe's eyes in the rear view mirror. She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Later, Joe."

Not hiding the disappointment, Joe nodded firmly. "Don't worry, Doc. Just a few more minutes."

"Have to stop the bleeding." Martin's words slurred.

Louisa leaned forward, her eyes scanning the floorboards. "I need a rag, or towel, anything."

Joe glanced over his shoulder. "Look in the back. There's a blanket I keep for emergencies. You know, for if I get stranded- or if anyone is cold- or bleeding needs to be stopped."

Louisa leaned over the seat, her fingers questioning until they brushed something soft. She pulled a plain blanket up. Her eyes flew to Martin's then to his bleeding shoulder.

"What do I do?"

Martin didn't open his eyes as he spoke. "Just press firmly over the... the..." He trailed off, his good hand waving vaguely towards his shoulder.

Louisa leaned forward, her torso pressed against his side, as she wadded the blanket up some and placed it over the wound. She gradually increased the pressure, watching Martin's face. The muscles in his neck and jaw tightened but he gave a curt nod of approval.

"Just hold it there." He said.

Louisa barely heard him, as his voice was so weak. She was vaguely aware of Joe speaking, his words unusually professional sounding. She realized he was speaking to the hospital. Exhaustion pulled at every part of her and, indulging herself, she leaned heavily back against the seat. She gazed at Martin's sweat sheened face for a moment before closing her eyes. She kept the pressure steady on his shoulder even as warm blood seeped through. They were far from being out of the woods just yet.

Louisa's eyes snapped open as the Land Rover came to a screeching halt. She had drifted off. The fingers of her right hand were warm and sticky and she looked over to see her hand holding the now blood saturated blanket on Martin's chest.

Joe switched off the ignition and leaped out of the vehicle, light from the hospital illuminating their surroundings. Louisa saw nurses waiting with a gurney out of the corner of her eye but only one thought occupied her mind. "Martin?"

Her voice sounded tinny in the empty vehicle.

Martin didn't move. His mouth open, head back. Louisa frantically reached out and pressed fingers to his neck. She let out a shaky sigh as she felt his weak pulse flutter. She absently gripped his hand, squeezing it close to her body.

The door flew open and a flurry of activity met her ears. Medics expertly pulled Martin from the seat and placed him on a gurney. Louisa clamored from the car attempting to follow as they rushed towards the door but a nurse stepped in front of her. She tried to side step her but the nurse matched her movements, reaching a hand out to her shoulder.

"Everything's going to be alright, miss. They will take good care of him. Now, are you hurt in anyway?" The nurse's voice was calm, relaxing.

Louisa strained her neck, not listening, as she watched the one of the medics start cutting open Martin's shirt while another placed an oxygen mask over his face. In the bright light she could see the full extent of Martin's injuries: the bruising on his face, the blood saturated clothing, and as his shirt was peeled away, dark bruising over his ribs. The automatic doors hissed open and they disappeared into the building.

"Miss? Can you hear me?" The nurse's kindly voice came into focus.

"Yes, sorry. I'm fine." Louisa said.

The nurse pulled her forward, towards the doors. "Well let's get you inside and cleaned up a bit."

Louisa absently nodded as a figure suddenly appeared beside her and a hand was placed on her shoulder. It was Joe.

" I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you and the Doc. In the meantime I've called Mrs. Norton and informed her of the situation."

Louisa nodded again. "Thank you, Joe."

Joe gazed at her for a moment before he spun on his heel and practically leapt into his car. Louisa followed the nurse as the sound of the Land Rover's engine faded into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

I WILL finish this story. I promise.

Anyway, here's chapter 5. It's a bit short but a chapter none the less. If anyone's still reading, thank you for your patience.

A faint beeping filled Martin's mind. It was rhythmic, familiar, and strangely soothing. He was so tired and wanted to slip back into the velvet darkness. But something was telling him he couldn't. There was something he needed to do. He fought through the heavy blackness that surrounded his mind, pushing forward. As the dark faded, he became aware of an intense cold wrapped around his right side. He tried to move, knowing something was wrong, but his body refused.

He heard a distant voice, the words garbled, and he stilled his mind, trying to understand. It was a beautiful voice, a familiar one. The words stopped.

_Louisa._

Distorted memories crashed into him. They were in danger and Louisa was hurt. He shoved his way through the darkness until the ever present beeping slammed into his ears, the sound now fast and uneven. His eyelids felt dry and sticky as they cracked open, the invading light causing tears to form. He blinked hard and focused his energy; he knew he had to get out. With every ounce of control, he tried to lift himself up—only to have an electric like pain shoot through his entire right side. He gasped in shock and fell back, the pain gone as fast as it had appeared.

"Martin?"

He blinked, clearing the tears, as a face appeared above him and a gentle hand rested on his arm.

"Oh thank God." The voice whispered.

The voice soothed him instantly and he felt his body relax. But it wasn't Louisa. His vision finally began clearing, along with his mind, and he recognized the familiar lines of Aunt Joan. The looming heart monitor and IV stands above her also came into view. He licked his lips, his mouth incredibly dry. "Louisa?"

Joan smiled down at him, her tired eyes smiling. "She's fine, Martin. She just stepped out for some coffee."

Relief flooded through him and he closed his eyes. Louisa was safe. The heart monitor beeped steadily once again as he let his mind fall back into the welcoming blackness.

Louisa walked through the bustling hallway of the hospital. Phones rang, voices spoke, wheels clicked, and shoes squeaked as another morning rolled on. But she was too exhausted to notice as she carried two fresh cups of coffee in each hand. After they had rushed Martin into emergency surgery, a nurse had attended to her scrapes and bruises and then she had given her statement to a police officer. The group of men had been caught shortly after Joe had phoned in. She felt her lip quirk as she remembered Joe's excitement at the prospect of real police work but she quickly sobered at the thought of the young boy who had died. She shook off the thoughts; there was nothing they could have done.

She rounded the corner and opened the door to Martin's room, a precarious business while holding two coffees. Morning sunlight filtered in through the blinds and the noise of the hallway was silenced as the door closed behind her. Joan stood from her chair and took one of the coffees. Her eyes were bright and her voice soft as she spoke.

"You just missed him. He was awake for about three seconds, tried to get up, said your name, then passed out again." She took a sip of her coffee then tipped her head. "Thank you for this."

But Louisa was too distracted to think about the coffee. She stared at Martin where he rested on the hospital bed. He had an IV in each arm, one dark with blood, the other clear with saline and the entire right half of his torso was encased with ice packs. His hospital gown was peeled down, exposing his shoulders and chest, the later of which was covered in leads of all kinds. The surgeons said he was lucky as the bullet only grazed a major artery when it could have easily severed it completely. Louisa stepped forward and automatically rested her hand over his. She stared at his bruised face, relaxed in sleep. "He's not going to be too happy about going to physical therapy."

Joan let out a bark of laughter and Louisa heard the pages of a book turn. "He's never happy about anything." She paused. "Except you, of course."

Louisa felt a rush of pride at the words but kept her tone neutral. "Do you really think so?"

"Do I really think what?" Joan turned another page.

Louisa slowly raised her hand and carefully brushed her fingers over Martin's jaw, the day old stubble raspy against her skin. "That I make him happy?"

Joan put the book down and sighed. "Oh, I don't know what makes him happy. I don't think HE knows what makes him happy."

Louisa looked down at the IV tape on Martin's arm, smoothing a curling corner. "Has he—" She took a sip of her coffee. "Has he dated a lot?"

Joan chuckled and lifted her book once more. "Take a wild guess."

Louisa turned, her brow furrowing. Joan's eyes met hers from over the book and the older woman sighed loudly before closing her book.

"No, of course he hasn't." Louisa watched as Joan's gaze settled on Martin. "He acts like nothing could ever hurt him but underneath it all, he's as gentle and frightened as a lamb."

Louisa turned back to Martin and watched his chest rise and fall with each steady breath. The doctor's said that if they hadn't of arrived exactly when they did, he would have died. The dark memories of the night pressed into her mind uninvited. The cruelty, the violence—she shook her head, pushing them away, she would deal with those thoughts later.

Martin's breathing pattern changed and she watched as he moved his head to the side. She turned to Joan. "I think he's waking up."

Joan hurried to her side and squeezed her arm. "I'll go get the nurse."

Louisa heard Joan's footsteps move towards the door and the latch open.

"And Louisa?"

She turned to see Joan poised to leave the room.

Her eyes squinted as she smiled warmly. "You do make him happy. Very much so, I believe."

Louisa was surprised to feel her throat tighten at the words and she smiled firmly, her head nodding. Joan left the room, the door latching quietly behind her, leaving Louisa alone with Martin.

She reached out and placed her hand on his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. His eyes moved beneath the lids and the heart monitor sped up slightly.

"Martin?" Her words were soft and she smiled gently as his eyes cracked open.

"Louisa?" His voice was almost nonexistent.

Louisa nodded her head and almost laughed as so many emotions rolled through her. "Yes. Try not to speak. The nurse will be here soon."

She felt his fingers brush against her hand that rested on the bed. She grasped his hand and held it tightly. She watched as his eyes opened wider and gazed up at her.

"You look so beautiful."

Louisa felt her neck burn in embarrassed flattery even though she knew she looked terrible. Still, a compliment from Martin was a rare thing, even if it was drug induced. She let her hand linger on his uninjured bare shoulder, his skin warm beneath her palm. Emotion suddenly welled up within her as she stared down at his uncharacteristically open face. The walls were gone for once and she couldn't help herself as she leaned down and kissed him. She felt him kiss her back, his lips dry. Her eyes stung with tears as she pulled away and pressed her forehead against his, her hands at the side of his face. "I'm so glad you're okay." She swallowed, trying to still the tremor in her words. She kissed him again, her lips lingering. His breath was stale but she didn't mind. In fact, she smiled as she recalled their fateful first kiss. She pulled back and gazed down at him, her voice lowering. "You do practice regular dental hygiene, don't you?"

His brow furrowed but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "What?"

Louisa couldn't stop the broad smile that lifted her features. "We should drug you up more often."


	6. Chapter 6

Martin winced as he carefully slid his right arm into the sleeve of his shirt. He had asked to have the pain medication dosage lowered and he was starting to regret it. Every movement seemed to send bolts of pain throughout his body, but it wasn't worth building up a tolerance. It had been nearly a week since the fateful night on the moor and he was finally being released from the hospital. Louisa had brought him a fresh pair of slacks and shirt but much to his displeasure, no jacket. He tugged the fabric into place and tried to slip his left arm into the other sleeve but the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his torso.

"Everything alright?" Louisa's soft voice came from the other side of the bathroom door.

Before he could answer, the door cracked open and Louisa slowly stuck her head through. "Decent?"

Martin let his good arm fall heavily to his side as he sighed loudly. "Yes."

Louisa closed the door behind her and immediately began doing up the buttons for him. An automatic wave of embarrassment made his neck burn but it was gone in an instant. He had grown used to Louisa's presence, and her touch, over the week. She had insisted on being by his side as often as possible and he had been grateful for that. He hated being bed ridden, hooked up to all sorts of tubes and monitors, he hated feeling powerless under the sub par care of nurses and idiot doctors, but there was a part of him that didn't want to leave. He had grown accustomed to loneliness throughout his life, had even grown to rely on it, but for once, he didn't want to retreat back to his silent house. He wanted to stay with Louisa. He glanced down at the top of her dark head, her eyes focused on the small buttons of his shirt. He felt her fingertips occasionally brush the skin of his chest and he longed for more. His memories were vague but he was fairly certain she had kissed him at least once, on the moor. But then, would she have kissed him if he hadn't of been exsanguinating in her arms?

"Tie?"

Louisa's voice broke his train of thought. She was looking up at him, as beautiful as ever, and so close. He cleared his throat. "In the bag still."

She stepped away and rummaged through a small duffle bag before pulling out a blue striped tie. She wordlessly stepped close to him again and looped the tie behind his neck before expertly tying it.

"My dad taught me all the different knots and let me tie them on him." She said as she tugged the fabric into place and stepped back to admire her handy work.

"Probably not a very useful skill in prison though, is it? Tie tying, that is." Martin lifted his good hand and double checked her handy work and was pleased to find that it was perfect. He quickly tucked in his shirttails as best he could before realizing that Louisa was staring at him. He couldn't quite read her expression but he was certain she was not happy. His mind raced; what had he done wrong? But, thankfully, the moment passed and Louisa picked up his sling and stepped close to him once again. She carefully situated his forearm before running one strap over his opposite shoulder and the other around his ribs and attaching them both. The support offered some instant relief and Martin felt his body relax.

"Joan's waiting outside." Louisa said as she picked up the duffle bag. "All set?"

Martin nodded and together they went into the main hospital room.

"Martin!"

Martin stared, wide eyed, at the figure of Chris Parsons and Dr. Beck, the surgeon who had patched up his shoulder. He liked Beck: efficient, knowledgeable, and very silent. He was a good surgeon.

Louisa shifted her weight, uneasy. "He needed help buttoning his shirt…"

Chris smiled and took a step closer to them, his eyes twinkling. "I'm sure he did."

"What are you doing here?" Martin hated the feel of being carefully scrutinized by the two doctors.

Chris raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Well I stopped by earlier but you were a bit unconscious at the time."

Martin narrowed his eyes and glanced at Louisa. She nodded. "Three days ago."

"How are you feeling?" Chris asked, eyes examining.

"Fine."

Chris chuckled and carefully patted Martin's good shoulder. "You were shot, for God's sakes! You're not 'fine'."

"Well, it could have been worse. Two inches to the left and I would have died."

"It's true." Beck's deep voice sounded for the first time. The middle-aged man stepped forward and handed Louisa a packet of papers. "Dr. Ellingham's after care instructions."

Martin met the man's eyes and nodded curtly. Beck returned the nod, a silent exchange of 'thank you' and 'you're welcome'. He turned on his heel, and glanced at Chris and Louisa. "Dr. Parson's, Miss Glasson." And with that, he was gone, the door clicking quietly behind him.

"Good surgeon." Martin took the papers from Louisa's hand and scanned over the simplified words meant for the general public.

"Yes, I knew you would like Beck." Martin heard Chris hesitate and shuffle back a step. "Now, Martin, as you know, you're quite incapacitated at the moment."

Martin narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling of where this was going. "Yes, obviously. But I should be able to get back to a light workload in a week or so."

Chris let out a bark of laughter. "A week? You're right handed! You won't be able to help patients, write, or even drive until you're out of that sling. And you won't be able to resume a normal lifestyle until you've completed physical therapy."

Martin clenched his jaw. He hated this. Hated being powerless. "How long?"

Chris took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Eight weeks minimum."

Martin whipped his head up in shock, the movement causing his shoulder to pulsate with pain. His left hand automatically went up to try and ease the discomfort but he stopped himself. He was only proving the point.

Chris continued. "And you're going to need round the clock care for these first few days. I know of several in home nurses—"

"I can help." Louisa said, cutting him off.

Martin looked from Chris to Louisa and back again. The prospect of being with Louisa every day made his heart quicken.

"I'm off work for the summer holiday and I really don't mind."

Martin could feel Chris staring at him, waiting for a response.

"Would that work, Martin?" Chris asked.

Martin cleared his throat and looked down at the papers in his hands. He could feel his face warming up. "Yes, of course. That would be fine. Good." He glanced up to see Chris smiling broadly at him, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Chris rubbed his hands together. "Well that's settled, then. " He jabbed a finger out at Martin. "Eight weeks. No less. And I will be checking up on you." He strode towards the door but hesitated, as if remembering something. "Oh, and I've decided there's no need for a locum. It's the summer, if somebody needs a prescription for hay fever they can go to Wadebridge."

Martin was relieved. The last thing he wanted was to share his house with a random stranger. Chris smiled at them and opened the door. "And Martin?"

Martin cocked his head. "Yes?"

His expression grew serious. "I'm glad you're okay." He looked at Louisa. "That both of you are okay."

Louisa smiled sadly and nodded. "Thank you."

Martin nodded. "Yes, thank you." It troubled him to know just how close to death he had come. How dangerous their situation had been. The unbidden image of the dead boy flitted through his mind. He shoved it forcefully away, now was not the time. The sound of the door closing brought him out of his thoughts. Chris had left, leaving him and Louisa alone once again.

Louisa looked up at him. "You ready?"

Martin glanced once more around the room, looking for anything out of place. "Um, yes." He watched as Louisa moved to open the door, her ponytail swinging. His heart jumped nervously as he took a deep breath, trying to prepare his words. "Actually, before we go—"

Louisa stopped and turned to face him. "Yes?"

Martin licked his lips, his mouth dry. "You don't feel—awkward? Do you?" She stared blankly at him and he could feel the panic rising. "About having to—to take care of me? I mean, I could probably get along just fine by myself—"

Louisa's lips curled into a smile and she folded her arms. "Really? So you had no problems getting dressed just a moment ago? None?"

Martin felt the familiar sensation of confusion. Was she being sarcastic? "I suppose I could have done better." He mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard.

To his surprise, Louisa stepped closer to him and grasped him hand. "What's there to be awkward about? I mean, we did survive being held captive by a gang and have kissed twice in the past week."

Martin's brow furrowed. "Twice?"

Louisa chuckled and squeezed his hand. "Well, your morphine dosage was pretty high the second time."

He stared down at her and was once again in awe of her beauty. She was perfection. And she was holding his hand. He squeezed her fingers and, heart pounding, slowly leaned down and kissed her. When she responded, he felt his knees almost buckle. He brought his hand to her face and drew her closer, a difficult move with the bulky brace between them. Louisa pulled back, ending the kiss, but stayed close to him.

"Joan's probably wondering if we've been captured again."

Martin nodded, trying to slow his racing pulse. He shook his head slightly as Louisa led him out the door, their fingers intertwined. Maybe eight weeks wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
